


The Great Downfall of Me

by barakitten



Category: nothing - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:20:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2010708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barakitten/pseuds/barakitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, the things I look to most are my phone, with all the wonderful people halfway across the world who think I'm actually worth something, and my music. And that's my life. No, it's not as depressing as it could be, I'm not going to say I was a victim of rape or that everyone I know absolutely and positively hates me.<br/>Because I'm not, and they don't. That's not reality.<br/>I'm just going to stick to the true story here. It has some happy parts, some very sad parts, and some amazing, uplifting parts that almost always involve music.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Though, my attention is quickly taken to my arms.

There's a pattern of red and white there, some small, some large. There are the deeper ones, the shallow ones, the bright ones, the fading ones, the shorter ones, the longer ones. The funny thing is, I think they look very pretty against my pale skin, all the words and gashes and patterns.

~

A jacket is slung across my shoulders as I exit the house, shoving my earbuds into my ears quickly. Caraphernelia blasts in my head, making me exhale, closing my eyes for a moment. It's things like this - music that makes my chest feel lighter - that make everything worth it.

And so my trip begins. The walk from my house to my junior high isn't that bad, only a mile. But, it's also the same route _they_ walk. Every step, every glance, every smile, every muted _I love you_. Every one a stab to my heart and mind.

So.

So that's why I don't go near them anymore, why everyone hates me too, they influenced them. It's just a big facade in schools, in being a teenager. Unless you're pretty or popular, you don't matter. You don''t have one of those _best friends_ that you do everything together with. You don't have an amazing boyfriend that would be sweet and caring yet rough and amazing. No, you have maybe a couple friends, someone who talks to you despite everyone else. And, depending on who you are, you have the wonderful, enticing lyrics of songs that make you forget everyone and everything, that make you feel better no matter what. And that's what I have. At least, in my school life.

My family life is a bit different. One mother who supports, yet has money problems. Two sisters that entrap me with their ages, both very different from me. A father that spoils me, trying to buy my love when I see him because I'm his only child, because he moved away from me. And the two other dads from my siblings, dads that don't care about their own daughters. Not really a big deal.

So, the things I look to most are my phone, with all the wonderful people halfway across the world who think I'm actually worth something, and my music. And that's my life.

No, it's not as depressing as it could be, I'm not going to say I was a victim of rape or that everyone I know absolutely and positively hates me.

Because I'm not, and they don't. That's not reality.

I'm just going to stick to the true story here. It has some happy parts, some very sad parts, and some amazing, uplifting parts that almost always involve music.


	2. Sometimes

Sometimes, I like to lay on the floor, stare at the ceiling, and hit shuffle on my playlist.

Usually something like Pierce The Veil or Sleeping With Sirens comes on, not out of the ordinary. But occasionally, I'll end up thinking about all my problems and mistakes as the lyrics of Welcome To My Life by Simple Plan floats through my ears.

All the _What if_ 's and _Why_ 's and _You're soso stupid for that_.

And then the next thing I know I either have a Sharpie or a blade in my hand. And there's many different reasons for that. Some I don't like to discuss, and some I don't even know how to describe.

And after either deed is done, I suck up all my self loathing and self pity and move on. Because it's not like someone will actually listen to what I have to say about the subject without saying, "Oh, yet another broken teenager with the world on her shoulders. _So original_."

Oh, look what song is playing right now.

 _Welcome To My Life_.

And it makes me think about who would _actually care_ if something happened to me. Remember how I mentioned _them_? I know for sure that they wouldn't care. My family will, the boy that I talk to about anything and everything, who I actually trust, might.

Who knows what I would impact.

Because if I did live peacefully and happily until I'm out of college and such, I might help a lot of people. If I don't change my mind on becoming a psychiatrist by then.

_You want to shrink heads?_

Yeah, I want to be a shrink that everyone will hate seeing, blah, blah.

But, surprisingly, I have a good reason for my career choice of the moment. I want to major in teen depression, self harm, and other mental disorders. Maybe even in a psych ward, who knows. I want to help people like me, feeling the things I'm experiencing right now.

Maybe I'll help someone so they can _live_.

-

Then I'm at school. You can just feel the joy coming off of me.

First period always sucks, not having any friends in there until you start dating the boy two seats behind you. But that doesn't matter when you break up two weeks later.

Second period is always the class to fall asleep in, without even meaning too.

Third is the _best_. The class where I can write anything and everything on my mind, and not get in trouble for reading.

Fourth period fucking _sucks_. Not the people or the teacher (she's absolutely adorable,) it's the sigh inducing subject involving numbers and actually _thinking_.

Fifth period, eh. I can eat and text in there because the teacher literally does not have a single fuck to give.

But. Then there's lunch. The worst part of the day. Food isn't usually digested by my stomach this hour, I like to go straight outside and sit by myself on the lawn with my music, hidden from sight. And I always see _them_ , so what reason do I have to come out of my hiding just to be stabbed and beaten?

Sixth is.... sixth. A giant lump of a boy two years older likes to torment and pick on me. Slams my arm in my locker a lot.

And finally, the last forty five minutes of my school day. Seventh. That same ex from first sits across the aisle of computers from me. And my friend sits in front of him. The weird popular boy sits right next to me. That's about it.

And after my backpack is finally slung across my shoulders, I see everyone pushing and frantically trying to get out of this hell hole. My best friend is a few lockers down from me, conversing with the same douche from sixth period. They're friends.

And I see _them_ as I walk across the main hallway. They're hugging and making out against the wall, occasionally coming up for air to talk to all of their annoying friends. My best friend, I'll just call him Alex, is with his girlfriend finally happy that the day is over, much like me. Little purple objects are in my ear within five minutes after the bell rings, and Bulls in the Bronx is the first song I normally click on. My stomach acids stay put as I escape them, (let's just call them Trish and Antonio) and push the doors open.

And the walk home begins.


End file.
